


Coffee for Closers (Truths over Mochas)

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Coffee Beans and Vinyl Records [4]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Band, Brief mention of self-harm, Coffee Shops, Customer!Pete, Fluff, It's done, M/M, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, barista!Patrick, cuteness, like just a passing thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hi there! What can we make for you today?” he hears Hayley ask the customers</p><p>“Yeah, um…hey, you want anything, man?” he heard one customer ask thoughtfully.</p><p>“We didn’t exactly come here for that, you idiot,” he hears another add with an annoyed tone</p><p>“Since we’re here we might as well!”</p><p>Patrick doesn’t look up as his back is turned, but he hears someone sigh with defeat.</p><p>“Soy hazelnut Latte.”</p><p>“Thought so! Okay, yeah, one of those, and can I have a vanilla iced coffee…oh and we’re also wondering if we could possibly kidnap a fedora-wearing dude by the name of Patrick? He’s a barista here…right?”</p><p>What....</p><p>(In which Pete is stressed and Joe and Andy try to help out, and Patrick finally finds out that Pete's 'real' job isn't exactly the title of "pity case" at DCD2.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan and Thinking of You

**Author's Note:**

> Finally posted this up! This was supposed to be a one-shot but turned into two chapters.

“We should do something.”

“What, exactly, do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know dude! Something, if we don’t, he’ll lose _his_ mind!”

Andy breathes out a heavy sigh as he looks to where Joe is grandly gesturing to. Beyond the glass frosted glass door, he knows that Pete is in there behind his desk, working for what would be his fourth day straight, more than likely sleep deprived, only making a quick walk to his apartment to shower when either himself of Joe force him to do so. Andy wouldn’t be surprised if the CEO was either pulling at his hair, on the verge of trashing the office, or just on the brink of a massive debilitating panic attack/mental break-down...or some combination of the three.

About four days ago, DCD2 got hit with some threatening paperwork from an investor, claiming that although DCD2 was a privately owned company, there was some clause in a contract that stated something to the effect that, in a way, the company was still a public enterprise, and thus, could easily be put up for sale for an umbrella company, to be owned by someone bigger, in the form of investment rights, which completely went over the company’s management’s heads.

It was a fucking dirty trick, and Pete was more than determined to keep his record label out of the greasy hands of sharks, even if he was in charge, he didn’t want anyone breathing down his neck and monitoring his label’s every more.

Pete wasn’t about to let that happened, not if it fucking cost him his sanity, Andy knew very well.

“It’s been like, what?” started Joe as they walked to the waiting lobby in front of Pete’s office, interns, staff, and Pete’s secretary nodding good morning as was they passed. “Like 96 hours? Give or take about three or four?” He runs a hand through his curly hair, his fingertips rubbing against the sheared section at the nape of his neck. “He needs a break, Andy.”

“He’s not going to stop until he finds a clause that’s gonna save the label, but he’s already close. You remember Mark Hoppus?”

Joe perks up at the name, curly hair flying as he nods. “Yeah, the Hopp-man. He’s Pete’s old mentor, right? The badass who’s a lawyer, but not really a lawyer? He helped us with our first lease and contracts and shit.”

“Yeah, him. Last time I went to check on Pete, he had him on speaker, they were talking about loopholes, and Pete was trying to find his lead. Apparently, he sent Mark a copy of the contact so that he could help us out,” Andy explained, leaning against the wall with tattooed arms crossing his chest.

“At least we have someone on our side,” sighed Joe with a little smile. While it was their baby as well, the threat was made directly at Pete, and truth be told, he and Andy really didn’t have much knowledge in the way contacts worked. Pete on the other hand, knew what he was doing, after all, he was one semester short of graduating from DuPaul with his Bachelors in Political Science with a concentration in Legal Studies, and besides, Pete made a lot of friends when he was in school and in the underground. Mark Hoppus, just so happened to be one of the few whom fit into both those scenes.

After a moment, Joe and Andy looked over to the frosted door of Pete’s office, his name written neatly on a small plaque beside it, worried for their long-time friend written in their faces. They know how Pete gets, especially when it comes to the label, and the last thing they want is lose Pete to a mental breakdown in all this chaos and sudden stress.

Suddenly, Joe’s head perked up with an idea, his blue eyes bright with a stroke of genius. Andy caught the motion and eyed him curiously, waiting for Joe to speak.

“When was the last time Pete went for a coffee break?”

x.X.x

Patrick plays idly on his phone during the last break of his morning shift, feeling bored after his fifth game of Candy Crush, before going back to look at the last text from Pete.

_‘Im rly sry. Smthng came up @ work, I might b quiet 4 a few days b4 I can fix it. :( I miss u.’_

_‘That’s okay =). I’ll be here if you need me for anything…I miss you too.’_

_‘ :) ’_

It’s been about three or four days since that text.

He and Pete have been seeing each other (or is it dating? Unoffically dating? Who the fuck knows) for a little over a month and a half. Between work, school, and Pete’s work, they would text each other as often as they could, not to mention Pete would always stop by and grab coffee during his shifts. Not to mention, they’ve gone out on about four or five dates (there’s one that questionable because he doesn’t really know if Pete spending a fifteen minute break with him while he was at work counts, but afterwards, Brendon and Hayley wouldn’t shut up about how Patrick just wouldn’t stop smiling and glowing afterwards…he wanted to murder them both…). Besides that one date in question, each one ended with a goodbye or goodnight kiss(-es, he mentally adds with a smile), which always made Patrick’s heart beat twice as fast, not to mention, his best melodies always came to him after his dates, the lasting feeling of Pete’s lips against his lingering in the back of his mind as he strummed his acoustic, jotting down melodies and cords on his coffee table.

After their last date, which was an early dinner after class and a movie, Patrick invited Pete up to his apartment with an offer of coffee and his record collection. That night, they debated over Bowie and Prince, but came to a unanimous agreement that Saves the Day and Green Day were God and even their lesser known albums were amazing, and anyone who said otherwise needed to really re-evaulate their lives (or needed some common sense knocked into them with a kick to the head, Pete’s words, not his.)

That night they also happened to make out on Patrick’s couch as Elvis Costello crooned in the background, one of his slower songs softly playing as the mindless tv show they had been watching was on mute. It was in the during their second kiss, the sweet taste of vanilla coffee with just a hint of caramel from the creamer he had put into it, that Patrick found himself seated comfortably in the older boy’s lap, one of Pete’s hands resting on his hip while the other carefully cradling his neck, playing with the soft strawberry brown strains there, all the while, Patrick’s hands with carefully situated on with Pete’s shoulders or chest, noting at how firm and warm his body was underneath the well-loved and worn shirts.

Nothing happened, he swears, they just ended up making out for a few more minutes, (okay, maybe more than a few minutes) before they realized the time, pulling away from each other with shy smiles and flushes cheeks. As Patrick walked Pete to the door, their fingers laced together, there was an unspoken promise in their last careful kiss that made Patrick’s heart melt, as they parted, whispers of goodnight against each other’s lips.

He can’t help but smile at the memory.

“Oooo…someone’s got it _bad_.”

The reddish-brown haired barista rolls his eyes as he spots Hayley enter the breakroom, just about to start her shift. She smiles brightly over at Patrick as she ties on her apron over her loud highlighter yellow shirt and black shorts, pulling her hair into a ponytail. 

“Well, hello to you to Hayley,” he says plainly, a smile still on his face despite the tone in his voice.

“Hey Patrick,” she giggles, “Thinking about your favorite customer?” she teases, taking a seat next to Patrick on the beat-up couch of the coffeeshop’s breakroom. “I actually haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”

“Something happened at his work…he’s been busy,” Patrick explained, taking off his fedora to ruffle up his hair before perching it back on his head. His smile turns a little sad, and truthfully, he doesn’t know how he feels about this, other than he really misses Pete.

“He’s been treating you well?” Hayley asks softly, smiling over at Patrick.

“Yeah, really well…it’s just that he texted me that he was going on radio silence for a bit and I guess…”

“You miss him.”

Patrick nods with a chuckle as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, I do.”

Hayley leans over to hug him. “Holy Pop-Tarts Patrick! You’ve got it so bad for this guy,” she pulls away for a moment before continuing, smiling as she does. “And he does too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, ‘Trick, he’s head over-heels for you too.” She jumps from the sofa over to get her nametag. “You’re in L-O-V-E! Don’t even deny it!” and with that she’s out the door before Patrick could even say anything, leaving him alone in the break room with even bigger flush on his cheeks…Goddamnit, he hated being so pale.

He glanced back at his phone, noting that his break was already over and that he only had about an hour left in his shift before he was done for the day, since his professor had answered the class’ prayers and gave them a day off after a major test, and Patrick couldn’t be anymore grateful.

Gerard was in the front today, with Patrick, and now Hayley, helping out with orders as the mid-morning rush came in. He greeted and chatted with familiar customers as he made their drinks, talking to Elisa as she stopped by to grabbed her morning dirty chai and muffin, and chatting with Ray Toro, another regular whom he did open mic nights, and Gerard’s little brother, Mikey.

“I’m telling you Patrick, you need to collab together with Travie McCoy, the guy from our theory class,” started Ray as he waited for his drink, Mikey leaning close to his side (Patrick catches Hayley at the corner of his eye, discreetly nudging Gerard’s side before gesturing over to Ray and Mikey, a questioning look in her eyes that literally screamed ‘What the flapjacks is this? Are they a thing or what, man?! I NEED ANSWERS LIKE AIR!!’. The redhead barista just shrugged his shoulder in the ‘Hell if I know,’ way, which left Hayley exasperated, before going back to tending some baked goods.)  “It would be fucking awesome man.”

“Maybe one day for open mic,” Patrick smiled as he poured frothed milk into a latte for Ray, before starting the dark chocolate mocha for Mikey. He and Travie actually talked about collaborating before for their final project in one of their classes, and even Patrick had to admit that he looked forward to what he and Travie could come up with after hearing some of his stuff.

“I’ve heard some of McCoy’s beats,” started the younger Way brother, picking at a wayward curl on Ray’s head. “I can definitely hear you backing up some of them, you two just need to have a session together, you’ll both come up with something amazing in no time.”

Patrick slides the dark mocha over to Mikey, with a smile. “We’ll see, keep an ear out if you hear from him, if he’s interest, maybe we can put something together for open mic night.”

Ray and Mikey nod before saying something about catching class or studying for one. As they leave they Mikey shouts out a “Later Gee!”, and the next few customers pour in.

The late morning rush makes is shift pass by faster than he thinks, and before he knows it, Gerard’s giving him a tap on a shoulder and Hayley is already situated at the register, her blackboard now on display, doodled with chalk drawings of cats and unicorns and something about secretly being a marshmallow princess…

“Shifts up, man,” Gerard smiles over to Patrick.

“I’ll just finish up the last two customers’ order and then I’ll head out,” gesturing over to the two men who just entered the coffeeshop. After the rush, it was pretty chill, and Patrick really didn’t mind. He had nowhere else to be anyways after he got out.

“You sure, Patrick?”

“Yeah, I got it,” he smiled, running some expresso glasses and the steel frother under the sink, before starting on his own after-shift drink: a hot mocha with a pump of hazelnut, vanilla, and caramel with a half a shot of expresso. Usually he would go for some green tea or Chai tea, but what the hell, he wanted some coffee today.

“Hi there! What can we make for you today?” he hears Hayley ask the customers, who know now added to the handful in their cozy little shop post-rush.

“Yeah, um…hey, you want anything, man?” he heard one customer ask thoughtfully.

“We didn’t exactly come here for that, you idiot,” he hears another add with an annoyed tone

“Since we’re here we might as well!”

Patrick doesn’t look up as his back is turned, but he hears someone sigh with defeat.

“Soy hazelnut Latte.”

“Thought so! Okay, yeah, one of those, and can I have a vanilla iced coffee…oh and we’re also wondering if we could possibly kidnap a fedora-wearing dude by the name of Patrick? He’s a barista here…right?”

….What?....

Patrick turns around slowly looking at the two customers at the register, both a bit taller than himself, one with curly dark hair and bright blue eyes, tattoos along both his arms, and the other, short dark brown-red hair and the beginnings of a ginger beard forming around his mouth and along his jaw, he’s also wearing a fitted, but not tight shirt, and could tell that he works out, not to mention had even more tattoos covering his arms that the dude with a fro. While the guy ordering didn’t look quiet as intimidating, the other dude did, and Patrick had to vaguely ask himself ‘What the hell did I do?’

“Yo, Patrick, we don’t have a key for kidnaping you, how much would you price yourself as?” asked Hayley causally as Gerard rolls his eyes behind her, comically face-palms himself as the orange haired barista smiles brightly at him.

“Um…can I help you?” Patrick ask wearily as he eyes the two customers.

“You’re Patrick? Pete’s Patrick?” The dude with the fro ask, eyes hopeful.

Patrick perks up at Pete’s name. “You guys know Pe-” and before he could finish his question, realization hits him. Pete mentioned numerous times his two best friends who work at DCD2

_“They’re like brothers to me,” he mentions one night over beer as they wait for their burgers. “Joe, you can’t miss him. He’s got a crazy curly hair going on, and it’s only tamed when he either slicks it back or has it in a little man bun. He plays bad-ass guitar, and used to, well, still kinda is, a bit of a pothead but he’s got a heart of gold.”_

_“With Andy, his looks can be fucking deceiving. He looks like a scary motherfucker at first, since you can tell he works out a lot, and he’s covered in tattoos. But he’s a fucking teddy bear, ‘Trick. He’s a CrossFit junkie, Straightedge, Vegan Teddy Bear who’s such a nerd, not to mention a beast when it comes to drumming…I always look up to him, he was kind of my moral compass for a long time before I grew the fuck up…” Pete chuckles and smiles big and bright over to Patrick, fingers laced with each other. “I probably wouldn’t be where I am now without those two dumbasses.”_

‘The hair…the tattoos…holy smokes.’

“You’re…Joe and Andy? Pete’s friends…He talks about you two a lot,”

Both guys look at each other briefly before Andy spoke with a smile. “Hopefully Pete’s been telling you the good, if not, we’ve got shit on him too that we wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Patrick smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing but good, I can assure you,” he says looking over at Pete’s best friends, the two closest people in the world whom he considered his brothers.

“Cool, so I’m Joe, this is Andy,” he smiles, pointing over to the heavily tattooed man beside him who gives a small but energetic wave. “And, we would really like to kidnap you if we can…Pete’s held up in his office and we can’t get him out…we figured coffee from his favorite place would help, especially if it was delivered by his favorite human begin.”

“How cute!!” Patrick leveled a look over to Hayley as she grinned. “Holy shit, this is so sweet I think I’m going to need to see a dentist after work!”

Patrick simply rolled his eyes. “She’s like that,” he shrugged catching the way Joe and Andy look over at Hayley. “Brendon, our baker/other barista is ten times worse,” chimes in Gerard as he leans against the back counter. Patrick doesn’t even want to think about what Brendon would be saying during this…he’s more than sure when he comes in for the afternoon shift, Hayley gush and next thing Patrick knows he’s going to be blowing up his phone for more details and ridiculous suggestions…That’s the last thing he wants to think about right now. “My shift actually ended before you came in, and my professor canceled class for the afternoon, so…I guess that makes me available for kidnapping?” he chuckles, adjusting his fedora.

Joe turned and beamed over at Andy. “What did I tell you? I’m a genius!”

Andy simply rolled his eyes with a small smile. “If that’s what makes you sleep better at night Trohman.”

Patrick smiles and laughs. He could see why Pete’s such close friends with them, not to mention he could see how easily Pete would fit in, it was almost like a puzzle piece. “Let me get those drinks ready for you, and I’ll make something for Pete.

x.X.x.

Joe and Andy are actually….much cooler than Patrick originally thought. It’s a little after 11:15am when they leave the coffeeshop, Joe balancing a drink carrier packed with three cups of coffee and four sugar cookies, courtesy of Hayley and Gerard, while Patrick took careful sips of his own while they walked. As it turns out, Patrick learns that Joe was the first one to hear about their shop and would always send an intern or an assistant for coffee runs when they first started out, it also turns out that he and Joe are fairly close in age and has a lot of friends attending school, hence how he heard about the coffeeshop.

“Who knew a little bit of gossip among a bunch of half-baked college kids would land Panda-ella his fedora wearing prince…I’m telling you Andy, we’re fucking fairy godfathers or something!”

“Panda-ella?” Patrick ask with a raised eyebrow while making the short trip over to the office.

It was Andy’s turn to chuckle. “Long story, all you need to know was that Pete went through a guy-liner phase years ago.”

“The whole emo thing, Patrick! Eyeliner and black nail polish, and flat ironed hair,” Joe laughed. “And this one here,” he jabs his thumb over toward Andy. “Used to have long hair, like passed his shoulders, and a labret piercing and half the tattoos.”

Andy shrugged, “At least I didn’t bleach my hair with peroxide and sleep in a dog kennel.”

“That was ONE TIME, man!!”

Patrick just rolled his eyes. “So, you guys were in a band together? Pete mentioned that the three of you used to be in the underground scene for a while.”

“Yeah, we did a little with Arma Angelus, but it never really took off, that’s when Pete got this crazy idea to start a label-”

Hold up…what?

As they reached the steps of a freaking skyscraper, Patrick stopped and looked at the two men with a confused look. “Wait what? … and am I even allowed to go into the office? I mean, you two work here, but I-.”

Joe and Andy stopped in their tracks, turned to look at the strawberry blond barista, because, crap. They knew Pete was careful. After his last couple of relationships, Pete had made the conscious decision to leave out the fact that he was a CEO for a label, because in all reality, all that title attracted with money hungry dates and sinful smiles that wanted nothing more than what Pete had in his bank account. Pete has had more than his share of backstabbing girlfriends and explosive relationships (Jeanne’s always a sore topic, and neither Andy nor Joe want to ever see him that low again) But the fact that he hadn’t told Patrick yet…

Andy motions for Patrick to follow him inside, where the doorman greets them as they enter. Patrick is still curious as they enter the elevator and pressed the button for the 27th floor, the top most floor for the label. “So…Pete did mention that he works for DCD2…right?” asked Andy carefully, Joe watching the conversation unfold with wide eyes.

“Yeah, he gave me his card. On our first date I asked him what he does,” Patrick starts, taking a sip from his drink. “He told me you he worked with some of the artist and dabbles in a little bit of everything, and that he works along with you two. And, I quote him, he’s ‘more of a pity case than anything’,” he says using air quotes. “I high doubt he’s a pity case, he just said he knows two of the guys who founded the label…”

Andy and Joe share a look before the elevator dings that they’ve hit the floor to the executives’ offices, which was a mix of modern décor with workable and open ambiance. They step off and are greeted with a steady flow of workers walking around, coming in and out of offices. “Pity case,” Andy starts softly, with a smile, “Isn’t exactly Pete’s job title.”

Patrick stops and looks at the heavily tattooed man with a curious but confused look, but follows them down the corridor, Joe takes a step head, stopping at the round frosted desk of what Patrick thinks to be the receptionist or the secretary. She tells Joe something, who nods, before joining back with Andy and Pete as they continued down the hall. And, to much of Patrick’s amazement, no one questions him or ask him why he’s there. It’s odd, but he doesn’t question it, at least not now.

They pass, what Patrick assumes is, offices and meeting rooms, people coming in and out, but not rushed or overly hurried. Everyone’s working, but…it’s relaxing, calm…Patrick can’t put his finger on it but it’s, in a way, surreal, yet it fits all into place.

They make their way to another little secluded lobby, sofas and comfy chairs outside a heavily frosted glass door, but before he could get a good look, Joe and Andy stop in front of him. “Listen…um, Pete,” started Joe, trying to find the words he needs. At the end, he just sighs. “…just give him a chance to explain, will you Patrick?” he says with a small but hesitant smile. “He really does care about you.”

Patrick looks between them, confusion written on his face as his attention turns to Andy now, who nods and gives him a reassuring smile before stepping away from Patrick’s view of the door.

He really doesn’t notice anything straight away, other than that there is light coming through the frost of the door, however as his eyes wonder around, trying to figure out what was so special or so cryptic, he stops. Something catches his eye as he stands in front of the lone frosted door, his eyes drawn to the plaque besides it with a name and title so carefully and intricately engraved onto the surface.

_Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III_

_Chief Executive Officer, Label Executive, DCD2_

Chief Executive Officer….CEO….

Patrick could only blink at the plaque for another moment before his brain created a single functional thought:

' _What the actual fuck._ '

.

_To be continued..._

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part should be up anywhere from tomorrow to next week, depending on how my work week goes.
> 
> Also...I NEED HELP!- I'm having a really difficult time trying to figure out a name for the coffee shop that Brendon, Gerard, Patrick, and Hayley run. If you have any suggestion, feel free to leave let me know!
> 
> One more thing, I saw Fall Out Boy on tour in Austin and holy crap it was AMAZING and the perfect end to our mini vacation, I have video of "The Kids Aren't Alright" if anyone wants to check it out on my [Tumblr](http://shatteredmirrors-and-lace23.tumblr.com/). Iris and I had so much fun and it was worth the five hour drive. We got to catch up with a great friend and have an awesome three-day weekend away from work(me) and school(Iris) and we would do it all again in a heartbeat. 
> 
> Anyways, Comments, Kudos, Suggestions, Feedback or ideas are always welcomed!
> 
> Thanks for reading =)


	2. Solutions, Revelations, and City Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done...
> 
> I don't know how I feel about this chapter. (I lie. It's not my best work and I feel like it sucks, but I just wanted this done so bad). It's un-beta'd and I can finally move on with the rest of the series! 
> 
> Trigger Warning: There is a brief mention of self-harm. Nothing major, just a mentioned, well more like a passing thought. Anyways, just a heads up.
> 
> ***All mistakes are mine, this fic is un-beta'd, so yeah, they're gonna be mistakes. I apologize for that.***
> 
> Enjoy! =)

Patrick…didn’t really know what to expect.

Maybe he expected a boardroom filled with people with suits, or something completely and utterly outrageous. But what he didn’t expect when he pushed opened the frosted to the CEO’s office, which so happened to be Pete’s office, was to find an office space that was so…well…spacious.

It wasn’t that it was just spacious, it was gorgeous, modern in a way, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, white flooring (Patrick wanted to guess maybe marble or granite) and black décor, from the large desk, to the back, full wall shelving. The room was also decorated in cool, dark grey accents, such as the comfy looking loveseat and armchairs, along with the small coffee table in the center, creating an almost home-y, comfortable environment.

What really caught Patrick attention, though, was the seemingly endless amount of papers scattered along the top of the desk and an arraignment of small, neat piles, stacked in a semi-circle around the front of it, with a figure hunched over in the center of the half-circle, his head in his hands, dark hair peeking and sticking out from in between tan fingers as they gripped tightly at the strains, shoulder slacked and looking worn and exhausted.

“Look guys,” started Pete from where he sat cross-legged on the floor, head still in his palms. “I appreciate you both looking after me, I really do, but I swear unless I find some way to fix this, I’m not-“ Pete finally lifted his head, dark circles around his eyes as he looked up towards the door, rough stubble around his mouth and along his jaw and cheeks from where he hasn’t shaven in, what looked like, days. Patrick watched as warm brown eyes widen as the words fail to leave his lips for a split second, before he finally stuttered out the first coherent thing his brain and mouth could form.

“P-Patrick?”

The barista smiled weakly. “Hey,” Patrick greeted softly, staying in his spot by the door as he took in Pete ragged and exhausted. Truth be told he didn’t really know how to feel, what to even make of, well, everything. Sure he never knew this part but he figured, if Pete was kept quiet about this, it has to be for a reason, at least he hoped so… His own mind played liked a record even as he made his way over to the coffee table, placing the carrier with both their drinks and cookies on the dark, almost black, polished surface.

It was quiet for a minute as Pete watched with worried eyes, mind and heart racing miles a minute, as the strawberry blonde looked around the office is awe. He missed him, Pete admitted to himself, missed seeing him, pale skin, soft hair, bright eyes and sweater paws, with a fedora and bold glasses. He’s missed the contact, feeling Patrick close against him, stolen kisses and the mild scent of coffee that seemed to follow the college student everywhere. He wanted to stand, rush over and kiss those lips that he’s been dreaming about since the last time they were at Patrick’s, sweet and slow, but wanting nothing more to get lost in him, to forget…but no, Pete stopped himself, he didn’t want to tread unstable (and his own current stress-induced mental instability) ground…But just seeing Patrick in front of him made everything feel lighter.  Patrick was finally the one to break the silence, voice soft as his attention turned back to Pete, blue-hazel eyes finding tired whiskey ones. “So…’Pity Case’?”

Pete nervously stretched the back of his head as he chuckled weekly, eyes averted, knowing well that he’d been caught in a lie (was it really a lie, though, well, he wasn’t exactly telling Patrick the truth…) But soon, the grin fell from his lips and he brought both his hands over to scrub down the length of his face, wanting nothing more than to press the heels of his palms into his eyes until stars danced behind his eyelids, but he didn’t…maybe later. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out, I swear,” he starts, his voice tired and eyes ringed dark due to sleepless (and anxiety-ridden) nights. “I just-” he cuts himself off as he sighs until to find the words the make this _look_ better…it really wasn’t working, if Pete had anything to say about it.

But Patrick didn’t seem to care at that moment. Instead of saying something (what could he say, he really didn’t know now to react to this, honestly), he picks up the coffee cups from their tray and, with soft footfalls, makes his way over to where Pete’s still situated on the floor, looking lost on his own man-made island, surrounded by papers. “Here,” Patrick offers as he kneels down beside Pete and extends his hand with his drink. “Mocha latte with caramel,” he smiles. “Just like you like it.”

Pete turns and looks confused for a moment, looking at the coffee cup and then back at Patrick, his eyes kind, and if Patrick was harboring any ill fate or hate towards him, Pete couldn’t see it, making Patrick either the angel he always knew he secretly was, or just very good as masking his emotions…Pete prayed to whatever God or deity there was that it was the first. With a small smile, he reached out and took the cup, the warmth seeping through his palm giving him a sort of comfort he didn’t know he was missing. “Thank you.”

Patrick was quick to return his smile as he folded himself on to a small space next to Pete, careful not to disturb the piles of papers that had been neatly arraigned and organized.  Pete was quick to catch on and moved several piles of paper over to another spot on the floor in order to make room for the strawberry blonde barista, whiskey colored eyes following as Patrick sat down beside him, not quite touching, but close enough for Pete to easily reach to his right and place a careful, steady hand on his thigh, he did when they were sitting on Patrick couch the last time they were together. But he refrained, he didn’t want to push any buttons, not now when Pete felt like he was walking a tightrope and just seeing and _knowing_ Patrick was here made him feel like there a net underneath ready to catch him if he fell…Pete feared that if he crossed that line, his safety net would vanish and losing Patrick was the last thing he wanted.

"So...are you mad at me?" Pete asked hesitantly, not looking that barista.

"Should I be?" Patrick replied, the taking a sip of his own coffee, the small bag of sugar cookies placed between them, head tilted to look over at Pete. Patrick doesn’t push. Joe and Andy asked for him to hear Pete out, and that’s what’s he’s going to do. And besides, Pete looks far to stressed out and ready to break at a moment’s notice, and doesn’t want to do the wrong thing either, he doesn’t want to scare Pete away.

"I don't know," Pete sighed, exasperated, as he lead back against the front of the desk, head thumping against the dark wood. "Yes? Maybe?...hell Patrick, technically I-..."

“You just didn’t tell the whole truth about your job, but,” Patrick paused and Pete turned to looked over at the man beside him with hesitation as he continued. “I don’t think that’s going to change who you are or how I think about you, unless you’ve got some double life crap going on or if you lied about your taste in music and I find out that you’re secretly a Justin Bieber fan, then I might reconsider.” Patrick smiled as he turned to fully look over at Pete, who looked shocked and wide-eyed.

Pete, at a lost for words for a moment, just stared before laughing and shaking his head, his fear of his secret being found out melted like a crayon to a flame, and everything felt lighter. “You totally got me on being a Belieber man, I knew I should have changed my ringtone…” and that caused Patrick to laugh, which was pure music to Pete’s ears.

“You’re such a idiot, Wentz,” Patrick replied playfully, leaning in to place his head on Pete’s shoulder. He stayed like that for a moment, as he felt Pete take a careful sip of his drink, humming with content. “Holy shit, Stump, this is amazing, without fail, the fucking best, man.”

“Glad you liked it, the guys thought you could use a coffee break.”

Pete looked over a Patrick, carefully moving his arms to wrap around his shoulder’s comfortably, moving the cookies into his lap in order to bring the smaller man closer to his side. “Joe and Andy recruited you?”

 "More like kidnapped me at work,” he chuckled, feeling Pete tense. “Wait, it’s Thursday; shouldn’t you have class?” Pete started, voice tinted with a hint of panic and worry. Patrick was quick to quell it, “My professor cancelled our afternoon class this morning via email. So all I had was my shift at work. Joe and Andy came in to find me at the end of my shift. They said you had locked yourself in here and that what might be able to get you out would be coffee, Joe figured that I would just be a plus..."

Pete chuckled. "I would say the cherry on top, but fuck, seeing you is way better than the coffee, no offense,” he placed a gentle kiss on his fedora. “Those fucking idiots, did they tell you anything incriminating or embarrassing?”

“No, but they told me about your emo phase, and how you got the nickname Panda.”

“Don’t remind me,” he laughed, his arm tightening slightly around Patrick’s shoulders before slowly moving his arm down to loop around the barista’s waist, fingers deftly playing the hem of his shirt as Patrick rested comfortably against his side. Another moment passed as he sipped his mocha and nibbled on a cookie before he turned against to the younger man at his side, his voice soft, yet loud in the office.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this,” as he gestured weakly  around the office, “You gotta understand, DCD2 is my baby, I built this record from the ground up, but I don’t like to broadcast my connection to it. In the past, it’s lead me to some pretty shady people.”

Patrick nodded, leaning up to kiss Pete’s cheek sweetly, almost as if encouraging Pete to continue on. So Pete did. “I was going to tell you eventually, but, I guess it’s just a defense mechanism to wait off on it, to scope things out before I let anyone into this part of my life,” he explained, taking another sip of his drink. “My last two major relationships ended badly, especially with my ex-girlfriend Jeanne…I got really low when I found out she was just interested in my bank account instead and was cheating on me on the side…” Patrick moved in closer to Pete at that, keeping quiet as Pete continued on. “The guys seriously thought I wasn’t going to be able to move past that break-up, it really fucked me over, but I just threw myself into work…I’ve dated here and there, but my job was never brought up, but with you,” he smiled over at the strawberry blonde. “Everything feels right, and fucking cliché as it is…I swear I was going to tell you soon, but this whole shit that the investors are throwing at me are fucking me up…I have to find a way to keep this label independent.”

Patrick thought for a moment before looking at the piles of papers that Pete had arraigned. “What exactly is going on?” he asked curiously, placing his cup down and moving to pick up the closest pile of paper work. Patrick glanced through the sheets and figured that it was a contact for something.

“Investor’s are claiming that DCD2 is generic, in a way, and they have the right to buy us out because have no ties to anything major, or something like that… it’s kind of hard to explain because is fucking technical…”

“Yeah, I figured, so what happens if you don’t find something?”

“Investor’s can snatch up our shares and we’ll fall under some major label’s umbrella…they’ll be able to have a say in every aspect that we do, so basically, it will be my word against theirs, and they’ll win every time…I’m not about to let that happened without a fight,” Pete explained, a determined look in his eyes.

Patrick nodded, still looking through the papers. “How long have you been going at this, Pete?”

The dark haired CEO shrugged, “About four days, about…I caught wind of it and I started looking through every contract we’ve sign for the company, every invoice, every receipt in order to find something or just compile something that show’s that we’re an independent label,” he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was. “I don’t know if I’m just so sleep deprived that I don’t see it…”

The barista nodded, his attention going back to the papers in his hand. And idea comes to him. “I might not be a business major or have worked with contracts before, for the shop, Brendon was the one who wheeled and deal paper work and all that complicated stuff, but maybe I can help by providing a fresh set of eyes…I-I mean, if you want, it’s just a suggestion…” he added, peeking up from behind the brim of his fedora to look at Pete.

“Really?” Pete asked, a bit hopeful.

Patrick nodded. “Yeah, only if you want. I know this is your company, and I would understand if you didn’t want me to meddle-”

“No, no, no. I mean, I really appreciate it. I would ask Joe and Andy, but since I’m cooped up in here, they’re running the label and there is no two people I trust with DCD2 other than them, but I know on the side they’re trying to find loopholes whenever they can and send hints my way…but yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it the extra set of eyes,” Pete smiles, kissing Patrick’s cheek.

Patrick put down his coffee and grabbed another stack of papers. “Let’s get started then,” he nodded, still smiling at the feel of Pete’s lips against his cheek. “So what am I looking for?”

So Pete explained, and that’s how the afternoon passed; Pete moving from the floor to his desk, stacks of papers being read and sorted, and Patrick, either lightly pacing the room, his favorite spot slowly becoming the floor to ceiling window over-looking the city, or sitting in the dark grey loveseat, papers and coffee cup placed on the coffee table. Patrick catches Pete pacing too, and out of the corner of his eyes watches how his hands scrubs his face or pull at his hair whenever he hits a roadblock after two hours. When he does, he carefully marks his place on a paper with a pencil, a contract for merchandizing, and stands from his place on the loveseat and makes his way over to Pete, whose already made his way over to the window, forehead resting against the cool glass, his arm resting above his head while whiskey eyes looked over the city. Patrick reaches the dark haired man and places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly as Pete lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging, however, there is still tension underneath Patrick’s palm.  

“You’ll figure it out Pete,” Patrick reassured softly, leaning to kiss his shoulder.

“I know…I just…I just gotta find something ‘Trick…” He shoves away from the glass with a growl. “I just need something, and I know it’s here…”

Before Patrick could utter another word of reassurance, both turned towards the frosted door, hearing a soft knocking along the glass before it was pushed open by two familiar faces. “We figured since the both of you have been in here for a little over four hours, you two could use a food break,” grinned Joe holding up two plastic bags. Andy waved behind him, holding up another bag as well.

“And since you two haven’t broken out into a massive fight or anything like that and have been acting like civil human beings, the both of us thought we could all share take-out,” added Andy, walking in along with Joe to place their bags down on the coffee table in the room. “We got a little bit of everything from the take-out place we usually hit up since we didn’t know what you liked, Patrick” began the curly haired man, adding his own bags next to Andy’s. “We hope you don’t mind, but we got the staples, orange chicken, sweet and sour chicken, tofu stuff for the vegan,” he says as he gestures lazily at Andy. “Chow Mien, rice, and a bunch of other stuff that sounded good.”

Patrick smiled over at Pete’s friends and chuckled when he heard Pete’s stomach rumbling beside him. “Food sounds good,” he turns blue hazel eyes over to Pete, nudging him slightly. “You need to eat too, take a mental rest from all the fine print.”

Whiskey colored eyes catch his own, as a tired smile comes across Pete’s lips as he nods. “Yeah, food break.” He’s tired, Patrick could see it, and more than anything, he wants to push Pete onto the loveseat, find a blanket and make him sleep for days until the dark circles under his eyes disappear, maybe even lulling him to sleep with a song while he played with short dark hair. Maybe is Patrick’s protective nature coming out, or maybe it’s nurturing, the gut feeling of just taking care of someone, of helping someone. His mother always mentioned that he was like that, even with his siblings, and Patrick has even seen it with Brendon, Hayley, and Gerard. He’ll do anything to help if he can, whether it’s taking shifts on his days off, doubling up on some when he doesn’t have class, or even helping out with homework or just being a should they could lean on.

That feeling is even stronger with Pete, and he can’t, for the life of his fathom why.

 _‘It’s because you love him”_ rings a voice in his head, but he mentally shakes it away. He’ll deal with that another time, but right now, he’s got other things to take care of.

With tentative fingers, Patrick grasps Pete’s hand, warm and calloused in his hands (he remembers Pete saying that he plays bass, and plays it a lot more often when he’s stressed.) and smiled. “Come on, let’s eat,” the strawberry blonde says softly, leading Pete to sit on the love seat as Andy and Joe unpack the food, stealing worried glances at Pete. Patrick know they worry about him, and that, in a way, is a comfort to Patrick, just knowing that there are others who care about Pete just as equally as he does.

Dinner in Pete’s office is a cozy affair to say the least. Andy sits on the floor by the coffee table while Joe takes a seat in the armchair. Patrick and Pete both sit in the small couch, pressed together and chatting and laughing with one another, while Joe goes on and recounts stories from their band days for Patrick’s entertainment. 

During a recounting of the time they met a man by the name of Dirty, Patrick notices that Pete looks lighter, smiling more, but the exhaustion is still there.

“I’m telling you man, they guy was freakin’ mental or something, I mean, we would dare him to do stupid things and the fucker would actually do it!” exclaimed Joe while stabbing a piece of sweet and sour chicken with a fork and popping it into his mouth. “Fucking insane, dude, I wonder what ever happened to him.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full Trohman, your mother didn’t raise a savage,” Andy said casually as he poured some cashew tofu on his plate, sending a slight glare over to the curly haired man to which Joe stuck his tongue out at the vegan, causing Pete and Patrick to laugh.

“What are you guys, five,” started Pete, motioning to Joe to pass the sweet and sour chicken container over to him. “I do wonder about him, though. He was at a pretty low place, but he always managed to make us laugh somehow.”

“Sounds like touring was an adventure with you guys, never a dull moment, huh,” commented Patrick and he took some chow mien and added some to his pate, along with some orange chicken. He settled back on the couch next to the older man as he ate his food with chopsticks.

“You got that right,” Pete grinned. “Sleeping in the back of a broken down van with an A/C with a mind of its own, endless driving with Gutierrez at the wheel, seedy bars and clubs, pit stops at shady gas stations, making our own band merc because we were broke as hell…”

Patrick perked up at that. “Wait, wait wait,” he stalled with a curious grin. “You made your own band merc?”

Joe nodded, curls flying around him. “Yup, screen printing shirts at our houses or in motel rooms when we were on tour. We would do those iron on pages with our band logo before we could afford one of those screen printing kits.”

“It was cheaper at the end of the day,” said Pete, snaking an arm around Patrick’s waist. “We would by shirts in bulk and do the screen printing ourselves with the iron-on transfer sheets. We would spend about three to four dollars on a shirt and sell them for ten of fifteen bucks a pop.”

Patrick moved into Pete’s side, enjoying the feeling of his arm around his waist, warm of comforting. “Do you guys still do that for the company?”

Andy nodded. “For the most part. We create all artist merc in-house, we don’t contract with anyone else, except just to by the shirts, caps, and other things in bulk,” he explains as he picks up a piece of tofu with his chopsticks.

“So you manufacture market merchandise in-house, no outside help, that’s pretty impressive,” smiles Patrick, “I’m surprised you don’t copyright anything.”

The tallest of the three shrugs lightly. “Keeps us independent, no stings to outside sources,” Joe adds casually, scooping some dragon fire beef into his plate. “Dudes, have you tried this one,” he says as he hold up a take-out container. “This shit is amazing, I mean, spicy as hell but damn good, I’m telling you, they’ve got to patent this recipe or something.”

Pete suddenly froze beside Patrick, much to the barista’s concern. “Pete? What’s wrong?” he asked lightly, setting his plate beside him. Pete’s mind was whirling, trying to compute, trying to figure out how the pieces fit into place. The merchandise, the printing, the patent…

Joe and Andy, along with Patrick, eye the dark haired CEO with concern. “Pete, you okay?” he vaguely hears Andy ask. Joe whispering “I think he finally cracked dude, should we do something?”

All Pete could think in that moment was about a patent…a copyright…

“Pete?” Patrick asks again, and this time he actually responds. “A copyright Trick, holy crap, a fucking copyright!” Pete grins hysterically laughing as he hugs a confused barista.

“Yup, he’s lost it,” Joe says, bright blue eyes watching the scene before him.

Patrick, as confused as ever, pulls away slightly from the CEO with flush on his cheeks “Pete? What the hell-?”

“The merchandise, ‘Trick. We don’t contract with anyone else for the merc. We just contract for the shirts, the contract for the shirts holds no affiliations, just a supplier.” Pete smiles brightly before he turned to the guys speaking miles per minute. “We make our own products right? We create, we package, we distribute, we’ve been doing that for years! Let’s patent the Clandestine floor, copyright the name, some of our best selling shirts, logos…”

“Clandestine floor?” asked Patrick to Joe, who answers, “It’s our merc floor, all artist and label merc is produced, created, and packaged for distribution there.”

Andy is the first to speak up. “Wait, hold up Pete. You want to create an umbrella within the company? Another company within the company?”

“Not another company,” Pete explains, “A branch. We already have the floor doing it, let’s just put a name to it, copyright the name, and patent a few logos that have been our best sellers. It’s already happening, let’s just make it official, and everything just stays the same, except it comes with a name and a copyright, which links back to DCD2.” He smiles as he continues. “That makes us not only an independent label, but a branch cooperation through legalities. We have something connected to us, we have a branch, meaning they can’t buy us out so easily, it’s more hoops for them to jump through, and if we can get Hoppus to help us create a new contract that would be nearly impossible for negotiations unless we instigate it, we’ll be set!”

There are three sets of eyes looking at him; Andy with a vaguely intrigued look, Joe, slightly worried, with chow mien noodles dangling from his mouth mid-slurp, and Patrick, confused but attentive.

“Call Hoppus” was the only word said by Andy, as Pete scrambled to his feel over to his desk with child-like excitement. Patrick, Andy, and Joe followed, Joe still holding on to his plate of noodles as Pete dialed a number on his office line, putting it on speaker for everyone to hear.

“Hoppus.”

“Dude, it’s Wentz,” started Pete hands braced on the desk as the other gathered around, Joe and Andy in front and Patrick moving carefully to his side.

“Wentz! Hey man,” came a voice over the speakers, friendly and loud. “I’ve been looking into your contracts and I haven’t found anything-”

Pete smiled. “Dude, someone gave me an amazing idea,” he turns to look over at Patrick, his hand reaching out to interlace his fingers with the barista’s. “Hear me out man, you’re on speaker.” So he explained, throwing in some technical grabble at contracts and legalities, and clauses. The man on the other line, Hoppus, was quiet as he listened and only spoke when Pete was finished.

“So what do you think man, will it work?” asked Pete, eyes hopeful and pleading for an positive response, Patrick squeezing his hand in reassurance. There was tension in the room as they waited for Hoppus to respond, the air so thick, the guys worried that Pete would choke as all eyes fell on him.

“I think you fucking saved your label, Pete.”

Joe and Andy whooped and high five as Patrick hugged Pete, the CEO holding on to the barista for dear life, placing warm steady kisses to his shoulder before pulling away, high-fiving Joe and Andy, but keeping an arm around Patrick’s waist. “Holy shit dude,” Pete breathed out, his voice shaking from the tension and with excitement.

“Make sure you kiss whoever gave you that idea about the copyright, Wentz,” he heard Hoppus laugh over the phone. A faint blush painted Patrick’s cheeks, but held on to Pete, arm around his waist as the CEO replied with a chuckle, placing a chaste kiss to his temple, warmth bubbling in his chest. “You bet your ass I will, Mark.”

“Sounds legit. I’ll start working on those papers, and I’ll submit the copyright for the name and logos, just email me the images and details ASAP. And I’ll start getting the paperwork in for the cooperation legal work and for a new contract. I’ll have a rough draft done in two days. We’ll look over it and we’ll hold a meeting, setting everything in stone.”

“I appreciate it Hoppman, you have no idea.”

“Always willing to help you out man, I’ll see you in two days.”

It felt like a blur after that, they finished their food, celebrated briefly and Andy and Joe went back to their respective co-founder duties, leaving Pete and Patrick alone in the office, going over a contract with their bulk sale partner before cleaning up the mountains of paper. The air was more at ease, much like Patrick remembered it when he first stepped off the elevator, and the tension in Pete’s shoulders seemed to melt away as soon as the email was sent and everything was put into motion. It was face-placed, surreal, but, in a way, Patrick has to admit, felt right, as if it was how this was supposed to be. He offered to help Pete with the paperwork, sorting them into stacks while _Saves the Day_ and _Green Day_ played in the office space. Pete followed suit, saying something about not wanting to give the custodial staff too much hassle.

“I’m going to go give these to Sarah and Jenna so that they could put these back throughout the week,” Pete smiled, picking up the stacks of sorted paper and making his way over to the door leading out of his office. “Do you mind being by yourself for a minute or two?”

Patrick returned his smile and shook his head, adjusting his fedora to run fingers through his hair. “Nah, I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be right back.” And the door was quietly shut behind him, leaving the barista in the CEO’s office, a song Patrick’s never really heard before playing lowly in the background, just enough to fill the office with melody. 

He walks over to the floor to ceiling window, a spot that has quickly become his favorite spot in Pete’s office, as he looks over the view of the city. The sun was setting over the city, vivid, burning yellows, reds, and oranges setting the sky ablaze as night settles in, the lights bellowing dotting the view like stars. It’s amazing, to say the least and Patrick wants to lose himself in it, fingertips coming to rest gently against the glass.

Patrick doesn’t realize how long he stays like that, even when Pete quietly returns to the office, stacks of paperwork traded for two cold beers. The CEO doesn’t make a sound as he walks in, frozen in the doorway as he tries to commit the image of Patrick, all pale skin, delicate fingers, blue-hazel eyes, and a fedora over strawberry blonde locks, in his office, leaning with one shoulder against the window overlooking the city, looking beautiful and lost in thought.

The reality of the situation suddenly sets in tenfold for Pete. Patrick is here, found out about his job one of his carefully (but not the most important) guarded secrets. Pete lied to Patrick, no matter what way he looked at it, and he was fucking terrified. He didn’t want to lose the barista over this secret, over all of his secrets. Pete didn’t want to lose their careful touches, late night flirty texts, movie or dinner dates; Pete didn’t want to lose needy kisses and tender make-out sessions on Patrick’s couch or in the hallway of his apartment. He didn’t want to lose this… _thing_ , this relationship between them.

But Pete had to admit that, in the end, he wasn’t the one solely responsible for that decision.

“Hey,” he calls out softly, not enough to startle, but just enough to break Patrick out of his stupor. Patrick jumps slightly, turning to look over at Pete in the doorway.

“Hey,” he replied back just as softly, not really moving from the window. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Pete threw him a small grin, “Thought we could celebrate a lil’ bit,” he said, pick up the two beers in his hand slightly before placing them on the smooth dark wood of his desk. “Enjoying the view?”

Patrick nodded. “You really found yourself quiet a view Mr. Wentz, it’s breathtaking.”

 _‘Just like you’_ Pete nearly slipped, eyes following the way Patrick watched the city skyline before walking over to the desk, he made a move to grab one of the bottles before Pete stopped him.

“Mind showing me you’re ID Mr. Stump?” Pete started, his face lit with jest, recalling the waitress from their first date.

“Ha Ha Ha. You’re fucking hilarious, Jerkface.” Patrick rolled his eyes, his tone and face flat as Pete laughed, handing him the beer.

“I couldn’t resist.” Pete continued as he chuckled, taking a sip from his own bottle as he and Patrick made their way to the loveseat. Pete flopped onto the grey sofa as Patrick settled into his side, eyes still looking over the city below.

“Thank you.” Patrick attention turned back to Pete, smiling down at him , arm around his shoulders and the barista leaned into his side.

“What for?” asked the strawberry blonde causally, blue-hazel eyes confused.

“For being here, for helping me save my label, for not freaking out…” the last part was soft, Pete’s heart nervously beating faster.

Patrick moved from Pete’s side, sitting up with his legs curled beneath him as he looked at Pete. “I’m hardly to be thanked, this was all you, I just helped reading over some technical lingo that I had no idea what I was reading, much less understanding, that idea was all you, Pete.” Patrick smiled.

Pete shook his head. “Well, you planted that little seed, ‘Trick, I just sprinkled it with some fairy dust and it turned out to be a golden ticket.” He paused for a moment as the smirk fell from his lips, his heart feeling heavy in his chest. “I’m sorry I never told you about this…I’m sorry I lied…”

“I know,” Patrick reassured softly. “I’m not going to lie, I still wish you would have told me.”

“I know.”

Patrick placed his bottle on the coffee table beside them, using his hand to cup Pete’s cheek tenderly, the other going to rest on his knee. Pete leaned into his touch, kissing his palm with saccharine sweetness before meeting his gaze full on.

“No more secrets?” asked Patrick gently.

It would be easy to say yes, to lie again, to hide every twisted dark thought, every scar, every pill, every attempt, to shield this amazing young man from Pete’s secrets that could easily drive him away, that could ruin Pete all over, just like Jeanne…

“I’ve got so many, ‘Trick…I…”

“So do I,” came Patrick’s soft voice, his eyes suddenly sad as he looked into warm whiskey ones. “We all have secrets, Pete…Just, no more lies, please,” Patrick hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Just the truth, no matter how bad you think it is…”

Pete brought his forehead to lead against Patrick, his beer forgotten on the floor beside them, away from where it could easily spill, while the truth fell easily from his lips. “I don’t want to scare you away…” he spoke softly, his voice serious as he caressed Patrick’s cheek.

“We all have demons Pete, some worse than others…”Patrick smiled sadly, never once shying away, even as he thought about his own past, his own teenage years spent in his room, with nothing but a shiny razor blade, very few people knew about those days…but right now that didn’t seem to matter.

Pete watched the barista, wondering what could make those eyes look so sad; he leaned in placing chaste kisses high on his cheeks before speaking. There was a sort of silent agreement between them as Patrick fell against Pete’s chest, arms wrapped around him and Pete’s found his waist, burying his face in his neck as they embraced in an empty office, Green Day’s _Last Day on Earth_ playing softly from Pete’s computer speakers. Pete’s going to try not to hide, despite how easy it is to do. He doesn’t want to hide from Patrick, not anymore.

“Let’s start over,” mumbles Pete into the barista’s shoulder, pulling away so that each could look properly at each other. Patrick’s puzzled for a moment, but shakes his head with a smile and goes along with it.

Pete takes a deep breath before he starts. “Hey. My name’s Pete, I’m 28 and a CEO of record label, a bit of a pizza addict,” Patrick laughs at that part, which makes Pete smile, “and I’m kinda addicted to the way you make my mochas and know my order by heart. Somedays I feel like I’m not mentally stable, but I have two best friends who have stuck by my side for years and I love to death. I play bass, used to play soccer, and I think you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Patrick giggles a little before he catches on to what Pete’s trying to achieve. “I’m Patrick, I’m a 23 year old college student, and I work as a barista at Coffee for Closers with three of the most ridiculous, insane, amazing friends I could ever ask for. I’m a music theory major, I ‘can’ (Patrick uses air quotes for this one) sing, but I rather be in the background. I’ve got more self-esteem issues than you can shake a stick at, but Brendon, Hayley, and Gerard are helping me though those. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you from the moment you came into the café.” A blush blooms on his cheeks at the last part, but just fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

Pete reaches for his hand, interlacing their fingers with such ease, it feels natural. Patrick squeezes back this thumb gliding along the warm tan skin of his hand. Pete brings the pale hand up to his lips and kisses it gently before leaning in to capture Patrick’s petal soft ones. Without a second thought, the barista’s moaning softly into the kiss, granting Pete the access he’s been waiting for as he allows himself to be pulled into Pete’s lap, a very similar position to how they were when they were together the last time in Patrick’s apartment.

The kiss feels different though, it’s more intimate, in a way, there’s no hiding now, not anymore, not even as Pete’s tongue slides against Patrick, causing the younger boy to moan ever so slightly; pulling away after a minute when his lungs begin to burn for air.

Pete removes Patrick’s fedora, letting his hand run through silky locks before bringing their foreheads together once more, feeling the warmth of the other’s body so close to his. He kisses Patrick’s nose before kissing his forehead, brushing away bangs Patrick leans in to kiss Pete sweetly on the lips, settling in onto his chest as he pillows his head over Pete’s heart, listening to the steady rhythm beneath his shirt.

They both look out the window, the lights of the city shining below as _21 Guns_ comes on over shuffle, and Pete’s hand caress the length of Patrick’s spine, placing another kiss to the crown on his head as his gaze turns back over to the city lights before speaking.

“So, since we’re starting over, I’ll venture to say that that was our first kiss. Since we’re back at square one, does this mean you’ll go out on an official date with me?”

Patrick raises his head from Pete’s chest, looking thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know…I’ll have to check my schedule, maybe we could just grab some mochas and catch a Harry Potter Marathon.”

Pete smiles, watching the way Patrick’s eyes light up and shine, brighter and any light in the city below and any star in the sky above. He wants to wake up to those eyes, to that smile, to the feel of his hands on his. He wants to get lost in his eyes, wants to kiss him senseless any chance he gets, and Pete…well, he couldn’t think he was any luckier than he was now.

“Sounds perfect to me. “

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...YAY!! 12 pages and 6600+ words and it's finally done. I can move on with the rest of the series now! As to why this took so long, it was mainly a combination of work-related stress, dealing with the aftermath of a flood (it was not fun, we got about a foot of water in the house), my depression rearing it's ugly head (also work-induced, but I've been talking to my friend/personal therapist) and just not liking how this chapter was flowing and forming in the first place.
> 
> All that being said, it's done, it's up, and now I can focus back on 'In the Breaking' and the next installment in this series. To everyone whose's been dropping by my tumblr asking me about this story: sorry for the major delay, hopefully there shouldn't be any more longer than a month...hopefully. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your support! Feedback, comments, and kudos are very much appreciated! If you have any suggestion as to what you want to see happen in the series or any prompts, feel free to leave them in the comments or drop one off on my [Tumblr](http://shatteredmirrors-and-lace23.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Than you all so much! - xoxo
> 
> P.S. - In case you didn't catch it, the name of Brendon, Patrick, Hayley and Gerard's coffeeshop is Coffee for Closers. Thank you to everyone for their amazing suggestions. I was seriously thinking about the name Caffeine Cold and Co., but figured, nah, let's just stick with the simple. For sure though, some of those names will probably become drinks that will be mentioned within the next part of the series (which takes place majority at the shop =] ). Again, I cannot thank you all enough <3.


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